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the week following the wedding. Sure, Harold and Caroline traipsed off to Rutherford Manor, where everyone hoped that they would eventually become friends, besides being married. And yes, the Castle was restored to its daily functionality. Even the leftover pheasant was surprisingly good when reheated.
    But what started in Vye’s shoulder as an overhand knot quickly progressed to a granny knot, then upgraded to a tiller’s hitch. By the end of the week, Vye was dealing with a full-fledged cat’s cradle. If it went any further, Vye was worried she would have to hide out in a Cathedral bell tower, mumbling about sanctuaries.
    You see, Count Ralsean agreed with Count Deliem. They should have a formal alliance. And who should stay behind to negotiate such a thing. Why, it was Lady Sarah, of course. Sarah, with her pretty smile and her ridiculous body. Vye wondered which came first: the hourglass or Sarah’s figure.
    It made perfect sense to use Sarah as a diplomat. People were inclined to agree with her. Especially men, but also women. She was just so fucking pleasant, Vye couldn’t stand it. Of course, her skill-set, that is, flashing a smile and negotiating great terms, overlapped somewhat with Deliem’s own chief ambassador. Which is why Sarah spent so much time with Landos.
    Sure, during the day, she would spend time at court, with Michael . But in the evenings, after the formal dinner, she would spend a considerable amount of time with Landos. He would give her a tour of the castle. He would take her on a moonlit walk in the garden. He would speak to her in whispered tones to elicit a giggle.
    Since it would have been improper for Vye to ask for a massage from, well, anyone, and since psychotherapy hadn’t been invented yet, Vye decided to run her thoughts past the smartest man she could find in the castle.
    “Enter,” Gabriel called, a moment after Vye knocked.
    Gabriel slept in a loft above the training room, in the basement, just off the forge. As such, his room was blissfully warm during the winter, and unbearably hot during the summer. The walls were lined with sparring weapons, dummies, and storage for a lot of the jousting equipment. There was a musty smell to the room. Sweat and iron.
    Gabriel was never idle, and even as Vye entered, she found him repairing the shoulder clasp on a leather sparring jerkin. He didn’t even look up, but after a moment, he spoke.
    “Good evening, Julia,” he said. Vye never went by her first name, and most people didn’t know what it was. But Gabriel had been training Vye since before she came of age, and he never got out of the habit of calling her by her familiar name. If others were present, he respected her position. But when it was just the two of them, he never gave her a rank.
    “Good evening, Master Gabriel.” She, too, had maintained his title as though they were still student and mentor.
    “How are you?” Gabriel said, feeling that it must be his turn to speak.
    “I’m fine. I wanted to talk to you about Sarah Ralsean.”
    “Oh,” Gabriel said. “Do you also want to marry her?”
    “No, I-- Wait, who wants to marry her?”
    “Your Count, Michael Deliem, has expressed his desire to me.”
    “Oh, God. What are you going to do about it?”
    “Do? What am I going to do about it? I’m going to do nothing about it. Do you think I should send a letter to Count Ralsean? Do you think I should warn him that his daughter is in danger of losing her virginity here in Hartstone?”
    He had become quite animated, waving his hand around for emphasis.
    “I suspect she’s in danger of losing it wherever she goes,” Vye rejoined.
    “You know too well the hearts of men.”
    “It’s not the hearts I’m worried about.”
    “Yes,” Gabriel smirked with the corner of his mouth, “Indeed.”
    “But seriously, we have to do something.”
    “There you go again, insisting we have to do something. Why would we interfere? The Count is at a good age for marriage. He’s